


Secondary Location

by HalloweenBae



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV), The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Angry Captain Holt, Angry Rosa, Angst, Anxious Terry, Car Chases, Coffee, F/M, Frank doing the 'shh shh shh' thing, Gen, Rosa getting shot, Sad Captain Holt, Undercover Missions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-30
Updated: 2018-09-07
Packaged: 2019-06-18 20:45:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 14,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15494316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HalloweenBae/pseuds/HalloweenBae
Summary: What if Rosa Diaz met Frank Castle? A Brooklyn 99/Punisher crossover that no one asked for.





	1. Chapter 1

“Oh good, you’re up.” Rosa spun the steering wheel as she glanced at her passenger, his eyes slowly blinking open. She sat her sawed-off shotgun out the window, aiming it backward as she blasted a thunderous storm of cover behind them. The back half of the vehicle skidded to the side as she took a sharp left turn, quickly taking refuge behind the broadside of the tall brick building. 

“Make yourself useful,” she told him as the car straightened itself out. 

The sound of tires screeched in her ears as their assailants barely made the sharp turn behind them, giving her time to reload. She flicked the barrel of the gun open and handed him the firearm. “Shells in the glove compartment.”

Frank quickly came to and opened the latch just above his knees. A box of shells fell into his lap as the vehicle veered this way and that, dodging random bullets from the mystery men on their tail. His hands shook as he loaded two shells into the gun, locking and loading it before leaning his head out of the window and firing back.

“Who are these guys?” He watched the windshield shatter as the car spun out and stopped in its tracks. 

“Are you kidding?!” She pressed her foot to the floor as she weaved in and out of traffic, finally finding a back road behind a laundromat and an old Chinese restaurant. Wasn’t this guy supposed to be The Punisher? A badass, ruthless vigilante? Why did he care who he was shooting at? Why didn’t he KNOW who he was shooting at? Had he already forgotten painting the walls with their blood a few minutes ago?

“No.” He sat down in his seat, glancing back for any more suspicious vehicles. “No, I’m not.”

Rosa rolled her eyes, groaning at the thought of recapping what had just happened at Gnucci’s club. She was just about to get everything she needed on Carlo Gnucci before… before HE came waltzing in. Before he strutted in like a big sexy bulldog and shot up all of the targets she’d been warming up to. Before he ruined a six-month long operation in less than five minutes. Before his cockiness got him hit over the head with a baseball bat. 

She looked over and noticed his posture begin to relax, letting her know that no one else was following them. “That guy must’ve hit you pretty hard.”

He rubbed the back of his head, surprised not to find any blood on his palm as he brought it in front of his face. He grunted and settled back into his seat, looking around as she took him on a route he’d never been on before. “Yeah,” he trailed off, letting his hand fall to his side, “yeah, he did.” 

“Those were Gnucci’s Boys,” she filled him in, turning off her headlights. “I thought you knew whose party you were crashing.” She eased off the gas pedal and slowly turned into an open warehouse.

“Gnucci…” He paused as she pulled into the garage. “Yeah, the Italians.”

“Yes.” She confirmed, shifting the car into park. “God, it’s like talking to a four year-old.” She rolled her eyes again and turned to face him. “You seemed to be on quite the mission, and made it very clear that you didn’t care about mine.” 

Rosa took the gun from his hands and grabbed the box of shells, getting out of the car before slamming the door shut. She glanced back at him only to signal for him to follow her, pointing in the direction she was headed.  
—————

“What happened?!” Terry squealed as Frank followed Rosa into the main room of the warehouse. “The signal at the club went out! I was scared to death, and you’re covered in blood!” His eyes were wide with worry as he took her in, growing larger as they landed on Frank. “Who is this?!” 

“It doesn’t matter who he is, and I’m fine,” Rosa grumbled, dropping the gun and ammunition on the table.

“It doesn’t matter? Yes, it does!” He paused and sized Frank up. “That’s Frank Castle,” he whispered, “The Punisher.” He rose his eyebrows at her while pressing his lips together in a thin fine line. 

“I know who he is,” she stated matter of factly.

“Why is he here? This is supposed to be a secure location, Rosa! You can’t just bring people here you meet on a mission! How can you be sure someone didn’t follow you?!” He points at Frank, his hot gaze locked on her.

“I’m sure.” She glanced at Frank, nodding for him to enter the room. “I couldn’t just leave him there, he may have a concussion.” She opened the weapons cabinet against the wall, securing her shotgun on a shelf. “What kind of person would I be if I let him die in a strip club?” 

“A safer person! We don’t know what kind of enemies he may have tailing him!” The vein in his neck began to bulge. 

“Cool it, Terry.” She put her hair in a ponytail and walked over to Frank. “He needs to stay awake tonight.”

“Your cover’s been blown, Rosa! We should call the Captain. I should call the Captain!” He exclaimed, tap dancing nervously.

“No!” She halted his movement with her eyes. “He’ll be gone by morning. We don’t need to tell Holt anything.” 

She gave Terry a look she only used on her father in the past; a look that begged him for a brand new toy she’d been wanting for the longest time. She knew that this was her only chance to get Terry to buy her some time with Frank, to get her story straight. She hoped to God it would work on him. 

“He better be. And just for the record… I don’t like this.” He stamped his foot on the floor. 

She looked Frank over, noticing the mixture of wet and dry blood splattered across his face. This poor bastard wasn’t even asking where he was anymore, or who they were. Maybe he didn’t care, or maybe he felt that he could trust her. Either way, she needed to see just how out of it he really was. 

“I’ll take the first shift, you go and get some rest.” She stared Frank in the eye as she ordered her sergeant to leave the room. 

“Fine.” Terry pointed dramatically at the floor. “But I’m calling Captain Holt first thing in the morning.”

“Fine.” She shrugged, rifling through the drawers under the table. “Goodnight, Sarge.”

“Goodnight, Detective Diaz.” He bit his lower lip before letting his shoulders drop in defeat, heading toward his bedroom.

“Detective Diaz?” Frank finally spoke. “Do you always talk to your superiors like that?” He let his mouth slack open, tilting his head as he watched her fiddle with the contents of the drawer. 

“Only when I need to.” She pulled his eyelids open and shone a light in his pupils. “Do you always play dumb like this after you ruin undercover police investigations?”

He smiled mischievously, looking straight ahead as his pupils dilated equally. “You’d be surprised how much you can learn by not saying anything.” 

“Yeah, well, I was going to learn a lot more before you came in half-cocked tonight. Do you really not remember who you were gunning after?”

“I’m getting bits and pieces back.” He put all of his weight on his palms and scooted up on the table.

“Well, you better get the whole picture soon. My Captain is going to have my ass in a sling when I tell him some mysterious postal worker came in and shot up the club.”

“You aren’t going to try to arrest me?” He looked down at the open drawer and pulled out a rag with some motor oil on it. He turned it over in his hands, looking for a clean spot before shrugging and wiping the remainder of the blood off his face with it. 

“Would you even let me?” She smirked, folding her arms across her chest.

“No.” He put the rag down on the table next to him and stared at her. Those eyes: black as night, with no gold or green to brighten them up, even in this dull fluorescent lighting, managed to hold her still. Sad and angry, wild and calm, she’s never seen so much emotion in two spheres before in her life. 

“That’s what I thought.” She shook herself from her trance. “As much as I’d love to bring you in as an excuse for my failed mission, I need you out there more.” She turned around and leaned her back against the table. “I mean, you were just…” She smiled and closed her eyes, thinking back to the image of him tearing those men apart like rag dolls. “You were amazing.” Her smile got bigger as her eyes slowly opened. 

“Yeah, well, not that amazing if I got knocked out.” He closed the drawer and hopped off the table, stepping in front of her. “You could have left me there, but you didn’t.” He paused, looking at her stature before meeting her gaze. “How did I get out of the club, anyways?”

“Easy,” she shrugged, “I carried you.”


	2. Chapter 2

The smell of fresh coffee brewed in the air as Rosa pulled two mugs out of the open cabinet. She set them down gently, making her way to the fridge for a nearly empty jug of Terry’s favorite creamer.

“Cream?” She offered, reaching past countless flavors of yogurt.

She turned to Frank who sat anxiously at the kitchen table, bruises from previous fights showing through the smeared blood he attempted to wipe off with the dirty rag. His skin was worn, weathered, and in need of some serious rest. Rest she knew he’d never allow himself to get. 

Now that he was seated, she wondered why he hadn’t run away as soon as he got out of her car, why he hadn’t stolen her keys and driven off into the sunrise. She wondered why he hadn’t tried to overpower Terry as soon as he saw how nervous he was, but, even a nervous Terry might be a worthy opponent for Frank Castle.

Frank shook his head in protest, frowning as she poured the cream into her own mug. “I take it black.” He paused and looked up at her. “Did you really carried me out of that club?”

“You would have been able to see the footage if you hadn’t shot the cameras to high hell.” She sat the creamer back in the fridge and kicked the door shut. 

“But you’re…” he started, trying to wrap his head around the situation.

“A woman?” She rolled her eyes and poured the piping hot liquid into both cups. “It’s 2018, Frank. Jesus, get over yourself.” 

“I’m not saying you’re not…” he put his hands up in defense.

“No, but you were thinking it.” She slid his cup of coffee across the table like a card shark in a casino. “Look, I know it’s an old boys’ club in the Marines, and that the NYPD isn’t very different, but if that’s how you think, I need to know.”

“Don’t do that.” He hooked his fingers around the handle of the mug and took a sip. “Don’t put me in the same category as the other shithead men you’ve met on the job. You may act like tough shit, but you pulled me out of that club for a reason, and I’m pretty sure it’s not to yell at me for wondering how a woman as trim as you managed to pick up someone like me who’s...” He paused, running a frustrated hand over his face. 

“Stocky as hell?” Rosa smirked and sat down backwards in her chair.

“Yeah.” He smiled and took another sip of his coffee. “So what is it? Why does a badass cop like you want to put someone like me back on the street?”

Rosa thought about the countless articles she’d read about Frank: about his family, his trial and his statements. She thought about him taking the law into his own hands, and how he seemed to be the only one out there trying to fix it. Rosa had never talked to anyone about her time in prison, but if anyone could understand how she felt, it would be Frank.

“When I was in prison I met a lot of people who didn’t deserve to be there.” She hid her face behind her coffee mug as Frank’s eyebrows disappeared into his hairline. “When I went undercover I met a lot of people who did.”

“And what about you, huh?” He licked his lips before looking up at her. “You deserve it?” 

“No.” 

He laughed. “That’s what they all say.” His earnest smile revealed a short yet perfectly aligned set of teeth. 

“I was framed. We all knew that, but, proving it… I almost ran. I almost left everything I had...” She shrugged matter-of-factly, trying not to get too emotional in front of him.

“So, you get it.” Frank swallowed hard, his features softening at her confession. He leaned forward in his seat, clutching the tiny mug in his hands. “You’ve been out there, in the shit while the rest them judge you from a piece of paper and a made-up story.” His lip twitched in anger as his pulse began to race. “This system, it put you in there, and kept people like Carlo out here to hurt more people. You should be angry. You should be pissed off!” He slammed his fist on the table, forcing her to jump. “You need to feel that anger, Rosa. The shit they put you through, really revel in that. Don’t you ever forget it.”

“I can’t.” She stared at Frank for what seemed like an eternity. His gaze fused with hers as an odd sense of understanding managed to bloom out of the early morning haze.

“My job ties my hands more than I want it to, and people like Terry don’t always understand.” She traced the rim of her mug with her fingertip.

“Yeah, I noticed that. Not a lot of people will.” He kept his eyes locked on hers as he chugged the rest of his coffee. “So what are you gonna do about it?”


	3. Chapter 3

Rosa entered Captain Holt’s office with trepidation, her heart jumping into her throat as she obsessed over every detail she wrote about the last thirty-six hours. She and Terry had finally finished their reports together and left them on his desk, hoping they would suffice. Were they enough? Were they comparable? Were they convincing? God, she hoped so.

“Good morning Detective Diaz, Sergeant Jeffords.” Captain Holt motioned for Rosa to shut the door before he continued. “Something came across my desk this morning that I think might interest you.” He turned his laptop around to face the two of them.

A grainy video of Rosa carrying Frank over her shoulder came into view. The footage was blurry, black and white, but impossible to deny. It was clearly Rosa in this clip, shooting her way out of the night club as an unconscious Punisher lay limp on her shoulder. 

Captain Holt shut the laptop. “I thought this footage might interest you because it differs from your statement regarding the night of August 1, 2018.” He paused, glancing at Rosa. “Detective Diaz, you somehow failed to report that you managed to carry a white male: thirty to forty years of age, black hair, brown eyes, approximately two-hundred pounds, out of a gun fight in the middle of a strip club.”

Rosa’s eyes widened, afraid to say anything before he finished. 

“What you also failed to report was that you took said white male into your target, Carlo Gnucci’s car while his men shot at you, and led them on a car chase to your secure location with Sergeant Jeffords.” 

Rosa looked over at Terry, wondering if he caved under the pressure and told Captain Holt what had really happened. 

“Oops?” was all Rosa could muster.

“Oops?” Holt rose his eyebrows, standing up behind his desk. “Oops is something you say when you spill soup on your favorite tie. Oops is something you say when you drop your phone in the toilet playing Qwayzee Cupcakes. Oops is something you say when you get the wrong set of ink pens for Kevin on his birthday, and he acts like he likes them when the company clearly mixed up your order with someone else’s, and you begin to wonder what else he has been pretending to like!”

“Captain,” Terry interjected, bringing him back on target.

“You omitted critical information in your report, Detective Diaz. You and I both know who that man on your shoulder is, and even worse, you intimidated Sergeant Jeffords into omitting the very same information!”

“I didn’t…” Rosa stepped forward, pointing to the laptop.

“You did! You lied to me and to the NYPD. Do you know how dangerous this man is? Do you know what he’s done? Do you know the repercussions of harboring a fugitive of the law, Detective Diaz?”

“He saved my life, I couldn’t just leave him there, I…” Rosa couldn’t catch her breath. She felt her face begin to flush as she tried to think of what to say next. She couldn’t believe she had been caught, and by Captain Holt of all people. She knew he was a stickler for the rules, but for some reason she hoped he would make an exception for him… for her. 

“How do I know you haven’t been working with him the entire time you were undercover? How do I know you two didn’t plan this entire thing behind my back while you were gathering information on Carlo?” He paused, giving her the illusion of a place to speak. “There is no way to prove or disprove your association with him in a court of law.” His eyes squinted as he pointed at her.

“Working with him since… when? Are you crazy?” She felt her heart drop to the soles of her feet. Now she’d really done it. 

“What is crazy is how you were able to carry him out of there with such relative ease, and how comfortable he seemed with you, according to Sergeant Jeffords’ amended report.” He shot a look at Terry who had his chin tucked into his chest. “You’re on desk duty for three months, effective immediately. Hand over your weapon, Detective Diaz.”

“What?!” She crossed her arms over her chest. Was he serious? 

“Would you like me to repeat myself?” He mirrored her and crossed his own arms. “Peralta and Boyle will take the lead on this from now on.”

“Boyle? Are you kidding me?! The Gnucci’s are going to tear him apart! You can’t just take me off the case because Frank Castle decided to waltz in there like a bat out of hell.”

“One more outburst like that, and you’ll be suspended without pay. You are lucky I am letting you stay at your desk.” He paused, looking at Terry and then at her. “Dismissed.”   
—————

“Hey Rosa, sorry about desk duty, but did you really get to meet The Punisher?” Charles walked over to her with a smile so wide she was sure his face would crack.

“Go away, Boyle.” She turned on her computer and pulled a pen out of her desk. She may as well start getting used to sitting here… forever. 

“What is he like? How tall is he? What does he smell like? Is his voice gruff and rugged, or more soft and soothing? Did you get to see him fight? Did the two of you fight together, back-to-back like Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie in Mr. and Mrs. Smith?” He sat down in the chair in front of her desk.

“No.”

“Are you guys secretly best friends now, like Jake and The Pontiac Bandit? Are you going to constantly try to find him even though he ruined the longest and most important undercover mission of your career to date?” He leaned his elbow on her desk, resting his chin on his palm. “Did he eat anything when he was with you and Terry? What kind of food does he like? Carbs?Protein? I bet he sticks mainly to protein...”

“Boyle! I don’t want to talk about it, okay?” She looked up at him as her computer slowly brought up her home screen.

“Okay, okay!” He sat back in his chair, putting his palms up in defense. “I hear you, sister.” He paused and looked around the precinct, slowly leaning in closer to her. “Do you think I’ll get to meet him now that I’m on the case with Jake?”

“Boyle!” She growled, sending her chair flying backwards as she stood up.

“Alright, we’ll talk later.”


	4. Chapter 4

Rosa reluctantly knocked on the door as she clutched the Manila envelope tightly to her chest. The pressure began to fill her lungs as she held her breath waiting one, two, three, four, five seconds before his footsteps got close to the door. The sound of his boots shuffling across the unkept floor provided an odd sense of comfort as her hands began to shake. She sighed and clenched those shaking hands into fists.

“Who is it?” His voice boomed through the heavy door, the hammer of a handgun clicking into position. 

“Detective Diaz.” She finally let out her breath. She couldn’t believe that it had come to this, that she was actually seeking him out. She couldn’t believe that she had gotten this desperate… this scared. 

Four different locks took their time to unfasten the door from the wall before Frank actually opened the door, his gun trained on her head. 

“Easy, killer,” she whispered, raising her hands in the air. “It’s just me.” That feeling of impending doom seemed to wash away entirely at the mere sight of him.

He lowered his gun. “How did you find me?”

“Don’t insult me, Frank,” she shoved the envelope into his chest and made her way inside his apartment, “Or should I say Pete?” She turned on her heel and winked at him before walking toward the kitchen. 

“Pete? You know about…?” He looked down at the envelope, then back at her. 

“I know more than you think.” She found the refrigerator and pulled out a beer. “And so do they, apparently.” She pointed to the envelope with her bottle and took a sip.

Frank opened it and poured its contents onto the kitchen counter. He turned the thick pieces of paper over to reveal several photographs of Rosa leaving her apartment building with red marker covering her face. The red ink dripped down the length of each photograph in the symbol he used on his chest: the symbol of The Punisher.

“Who sent you these?” He whispered without looking up.

“I was hoping you would know.” She took a drink and set her beer down next to the photographs. “Someone sent my captain a video of me pulling you out of the club, I got stuck with desk duty, then a week later I get these.”

“Were these in your mailbox, or…” His trigger finger started to twitch erratically.

“I found them on my desk this morning.” She chugged the rest of her beer and tossed the bottle in the sink. “Look, the last thing I wanted to do was to come here and interrupt…” she looked around his small apartment. “Whatever this is.” 

Frank frowned before glancing back at her. “Did you see who dropped these off? A bicycle messenger, server, postal worker, anybody who could have…”

“Gina said it was there when she came in this morning.”

“Who’s Gina?” He sifted through each of the photographs, turning them over to look for some sort of clue. 

“Ugh, you don’t want to know.” She rolled her eyes. 

“I need to know!” He yelled, slamming his fist on the counter. 

“I need to know,” he whispered, his eyes searching hers for the gravity of the situation. “If they know where you live, they know where you work, and they know you’re with me…” He licked his lips and looked at the ground before blinking an obscene amount of times. 

He paused and pointed at the pictures. “The Gnuccis have deep pockets. Deep enough to buy a couple of Brooklyn detectives if they really wanted to.” He put the photos back into the envelope. “You said you were put on desk duty, do you have any idea who took over for you on the case?”

“Don’t,” she warned him.

Deafening bullets cut their way through the cheap drywall that made up Frank’s apartment before she even had time to get mad at him. Her instincts sent her down onto her stomach, losing sight of Frank instantly. Were they after her? Were they after him? Did they know those pictures would freak her out and lead her straight to him? Was this all her fault? Was she just a pawn in all of this? Did she even mean anything to the Gnucci family? I mean, she was the one undercover for six months, not him, right?

“Under the sink, Diaz!” Frank yelled through the cabinet. 

Oh, good, he’s still alive. Of course he’s still alive! She opened the cupboard beneath the sink to find a handgun taped underneath the countertop. “Got it!” She yelled back, ripping it off the moldy wooden plank. 

“Come on out, Frank! Let’s finish the job.” Eddie Gnucci’s voice was muffled, like an old black and white mafia film playing in another room. 

The bullets from the car chase seemed a lot farther away than these, and a lot less detrimental to her hearing. Rosa winced as she tried to block out the high-pitched ringing in her ears as Frank took charge.

“You first!” Frank taunted, still crouching down behind the kitchen counter.

One shot, two shots, three shots, four; Frank didn’t give them a chance to get through the door. Five shots, six shots, seven, eight, nine; how many of them were waiting out there this time? Rosa looked down at her gun and checked each barrel for a bullet. She realized that Frank would be out soon, his gun having only fifteen to twenty rounds, max. She counted six rounds in her revolver, knowing she had to make each one of them count. 

The sound of rushing footsteps kept vibrating through the floorboards and into her bones, forcing Rosa to get up and move. She watched as Frank shot Gnucci’s men pointe blank, ending their lives before they even knew they were in jeopardy. He used his last bullet and threw his gun on the floor before disarming the next man without any effort at all. His moves were quick and beautiful, like a well-choreographed dance with blood and gunpowder instead of stage makeup. A guttural growl rose out of his chest as he broke the arms and necks of Gnucci’s men, snapping their spines over his knee like an amateur karate board. Rosa couldn’t help but stare in admiration as he transformed into this creature, this wild animal howling at the moon as the blood of his enemies splattered across his face. 

She saw Eddie Gnucci out of the corner of her eye, aiming a gun at Frank. She pulled the hammer back on her revolver and closed her right eye, aiming at the man who caused all of this trouble for her. She took in a deep, slow breath, doing her best to keep her aim steady and true on this Italian piece of shit. She exhaled slowly, pulling the trigger as his head exploded into a piñata of pink and red confetti.

Frank yelled as he twisted the neck of the last of Gnucci’s men, breathing heavily as he saw what Rosa did. “Thanks,” he smiled, stepping over the bodies to get to her. “We gotta go.”


	5. Chapter 5

The stench of blood, gas and sweat filled the hallway leading to Frank’s apartment as the flies started to hover over the bodies he had left behind. They made their way in through gaps between the air conditioning units and windows as Captain Holt arrived on the scene. 

“What happened here, Peralta?” Holt took a handkerchief out of his pocket and held it over his nose. The number of bodies in the doorway was more than he had seen since he worked in Homicide. 

“Captain! I’m so glad you’re here!” Jake shot finger guns at Captain Holt as he stepped over the bodies. “The lojack we put on Eddie Gnucci’s car led us here, but it led us here a little too late.”

Holt lowered the handkerchief down to his side. “A little too late? Peralta, this is a nightmare! Are any of these men Eddie Gnucci? Do we know whose apartment this is? Do we think this is the work of…” Holt looked around at the other police officers suspiciously. “The Punisher?” He whispered the last word, leaning in close to Jake. 

Jake’s lips formed into a sad smile, his light brown eyes welling up with tears as his throat began to dry up. “Homicide has been here for about an hour or so, they think one of the men might be Eddie Gnucci, but his head’s been blown off by a revolver, so, you know, YOLO.”

“We think Rosa was here.” Charles butted in for his friend, noticing that he couldn’t bring it up on his own. 

“Diaz?” Holt looked over as the crime scene investigators began to lift the bodies out in black plastic bags. “Is she…”

“No! No, no no no no no no no no no. No way, they didn’t find a female body.” Jake’s awkward smile spread across his face as he glanced back to where Captain Holt was looking. 

“But they did find these.” Charles handed his captain the Manila envelope from before, only this time is was covered in blood. 

“These are of Diaz! With a skull across her face!” He looked up at Charles, then at Jake. “What are these photographs doing in this man’s apartment?”

“I dunno!” Jake bit his lip and nodded. “A crazy person is out there trying to kill my friend, it’s no big deal.”

“Sir, that skull is the symbol of The Punisher.” Charles leaned over Jake and pointed to Rosa’s face. “This apartment is registered to a Peter Castiglione, which Jake and I believe to be an alias of Frank Castle. I mean, there are guns hidden everywhere in this place; in the bathroom, under the mattress, in the closet, behind the door, in the refrigerator of all places!” He chuckled. “His wardrobe is all black Henley’s and t-shirts, I mean, who else could it be?”

“Peralta, is this true? Do you think Frank Castle is Peter Castiglione?” Holt’s face hardened.

“Yeah.” He blinked a few times to dry up his eyes before looking back up at him. “At first I thought someone sent these photos to him, targeting someone who’s helped him in the past, but…”

“Rosa was acting really weird today. She was super chatty and kept asking me about my favorite romantic comedies and cupcake recipes. She definitely seemed spooked.” Charles added.

“So, you think someone sent her the photographs at work, and instead of coming to me and dusting the envelope for prints, she came to him.” Holt handed the photos back to Charles. 

“Well, when you put it that way, it sounds kind of dumb.” Jake looked back at the doorway as the last body was removed. “But yeah, I think that’s exactly what happened.” He took a deep breath. “I tried to call her, but she didn’t answer.”

“Not unlike her,” Holt replied, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Right, so I had Amy track her phone and it looks like the signal shut off about three hours ago, before she left her apartment.” He motioned for Holt to follow him into the crime scene.

“I had Gina check on her at her apartment, but she wasn’t there.” Jake swallowed hard as they entered the bloodbath in the kitchen. “Watch your step, Captain.” 

“My God!” Captain Holt looked around the scarcely furnished apartment in horror. Pools of blood had already begun to coagulate into brown jello on the floor beside him. Streams of arterial blood shot up the walls and onto the ceiling as his eyes moved up to take it all in. To think that one man had the power to do all of this in a matter of minutes made him shiver. This man, this… thing was still out there, and so was Diaz.

“We think all of that is from the fight between Castle and Gnucci’s men.” Jake interrupted Holt’s thoughts. “There’s a horizontal spray of bullets about shoulder length, which we think started everything.”

“We think this pool of blood belongs to Rosa.” Charles pointed to a small semicircle of burgundy liquid near the dishwasher. 

Captain Holt rose his eyebrows as his jaw dropped open. The puddle of blood didn’t look that big, half of a quart at most. They wouldn’t be able to tell if it was from Diaz until the DNA returned from the lab, and that would take hours. Maybe the bullet just grazed her, maybe there was a third person in the apartment at the time of the attack. Maybe Diaz wasn’t involved at all, and the photos were planted in the apartment just to throw them off. “You think she was shot?” He finally spoke.

“I do.” Jake stepped in front of him, worry painting his face. “I think that she’s in trouble, and time’s running out.”

“And what about Castle? She seemed to trust him, and he her.” Holt took a breath and tried to take his burdening emotions out of the situation. “He was a Marine, surely he has training in combat medicine.”

“Once a Marine, always a Marine!” Charles chimed in, quickly reading the room and gently stepping back. “Sorry.”

“She should have come to me.” Captain Holt whispered to himself. “She should have come to me, but she didn’t trust me. I put her on desk duty to keep her safe, to keep her out of the line of fire while we…” He paused and took a deep breath. Had he pushed her away? Was this his fault? “Whoever sent me that video works for the NYPD. I wasn’t sure if our conversation was completely private, so I was a little… harsh.” He looked around as the last of the Homicide detectives left the scene. 

“For now we have to believe that Frank Castle has taken her somewhere safe.” He glanced once more at the pool of blood on the floor. “In the meantime, we’ll do everything we can to find our friend.”


	6. Chapter 6

Rosa didn’t feel it at first, the shock and adrenaline masking her symptoms as she fought to keep them alive. It wasn’t until he was done fighting that the blood-soaked warrior came over and tossed her over his shoulder. His arm had latched over her legs, securing her tightly to his chest as the floor beneath her seemed to shift and sway. The lighting of the apartment building changed so quickly, forcing her to close her eyes as the pressure beneath her dropped with each step. Stairs, she thought, he must be taking her down a flight of stairs. 

This must have been how he felt that night in the club: hazy, confused, tired. She couldn’t believe she had finally gotten shot after all these years, and in Frank Castle’s kitchen of all places. She’d managed to dodge the bullet, quite literally, so many times, that she was beginning to think that she was invincible. 

“You should have left me there.” Rosa spat out, looking down as the blood spilled down her arm. 

“Shh shh shh,” he soothed, ripping the sleeve of her shirt open. “You don’t mean that.” He pulled the cloth down to her waist and knelt in front of her.

“Maybe I should have left you in that club, then none of this would have happened.” Her eyelids started to droop as she tilted her head towards him.

“You really believe that, Diaz?” He brushed a strand of hair out of her face, stabilizing her head with his hands. 

“I dunno.” She let her eyes close for a second, relishing the sensation of his touch. “When I saw you that night…” She opened her eyes to look at him, blood trickling down his forehead into his eyebrow. It mixed in with droplets of sweat on his thick and heavy lashes, black carbon painting his cheeks and upper lip like some sort of ceremonial war paint. “I felt safe,” she started. “I felt safe for the first time in six months,” she confessed, looking at her feet. 

“You know what I saw?” He grabbed a bottle of alcohol, or antiseptic, or Vodka… who could tell at this point, anyways? He spun the cap off and poured it over her shoulder, holding her down as she squirmed. “You didn’t turn your head. You didn’t close your eyes, or look the other way, nah, you watched me work.” He emptied the bottle onto her clavicle, shaking the last of the droplets out. 

“Every time I save someone, people still see me as a monster. The way they look at me, even Karen, she…” He stopped and stared off into the distance, as if this Karen person was in the other room waiting for him. He chuckled quietly and smiled, running a hand across his chin. “And I get that, it’s part of the job, I have to live with that, but you…” He swallowed hard, wiping the blood and alcohol off her chest. “You weren’t afraid.” He tossed the bloody rag onto the table and stared at her. “Hell, you even picked my ass up and drove me to safety.”

“I had to.” She did her best to smile at him, but the pain from her wound began to throb. She looked down at her blood-soaked body and laughed. “I’m gonna lose my badge, aren’t I?”

“Hey!” He grabbed her face, pinching her chin between his thumb and forefinger. “They were gonna come for you no matter what, you hear?Now what’s more important, your badge or your life?” 

His eyes were stern, cold like her father’s when she used to run away in the middle of the night. She stared as they moved back and forth, scanning her face for some form of acknowledgment.

“My life,” she answered. “My life.”

“Good.” He let go of her face and leaned back, pulling a pair of scissors out of the bag next to him. “You know, Diaz, you would’ve made one hell of a Marine,” he smiled, cutting the rest of her shirt off.

“Yeah, I would,” she laughed, glancing down as her shirt fell to shreds on the floor. She noticed that her blood had transformed the thin black cloth into a deep maroon shroud. “Can you believe I’ve never been shot before?” 

“Yeah, well there’s a first time for everything.” He collected her hair behind her neck, moving it away from her wound.

“Frank, what the hell?” Another man’s voice sounded in the distance. “Frank, we talked about this.”

“Just needed some supplies, Curt. Then we’ll be out of your hair.” Frank didn’t even bother looking back at him. 

“QuikClot’s in the front pocket, Frank.” He took one look at Rosa and changed his tone. “Is the bullet still in?” 

“Nah,” Frank brushed her arm with the back of his knuckles before looking up at him. “A clean through and through.”

“How much blood has she lost?” He set his bag down and pushed Frank out of the way, grabbing a pair of purple gloves before taking a few white squares out the bag. “Frank get you into this mess, soldier?” He asked with kind eyes as he snapped on his gloves. 

“Ah!” Rosa screamed for the first time, not having time to answer. The pain from his fingers rudely interrupted her daze of euphoria, the pressure like a wrought iron brand welding into her shoulder. She curled her toes inside her boots as she felt the pressure increase, hoping that the sensation would distract from the pain. “Yes and no,” she whispered through clenched teeth.

“Frank has a knack for getting people into trouble whether they want it or not.” Curt told her, taping an even bigger gauze around her wound. “So what are you? Former Marines, Army, Coast Guard…?” He pulled her toward him, taping her exit wound as the bleeding finally slowed to a stop.

“I’m a cop.” Rosa winced, feeling the sharp pinch of a needle in her right thigh. 

“Go to sleep, Diaz,” Frank’s voice echoed in her ears. “Go to sleep.”


	7. Chapter 7

The abandoned storefront was hotter than Jake had expected, the warmth of his leather jacket threatening to make him sweat even more than he already had. He could take it off, sure, but then he’d just be in his gray t-shirt. If he was going to meet Frank Castle after he spent all this time with Rosa, well, he wanted to look half as cool as his friend does. He sipped his third energy drink of the night, staring up at the window of Isabella Gnucci’s penthouse as it shocked him awake with each tingling draught. His hands were shaky, his eyes twitching, but he had to stay awake. Rosa was still out there somewhere, and he had to find her before Ma Gnucci did. 

“See anything yet?” Charles asked, opening a small carton of milk. 

“Not yet, she’s just having dinner with her boyfriend.” He put down his binoculars and looked over at Charles. “Are you drinking milk?”

“I’ve got to keep my bones strong since I’m doing all of that yoga, remember? What if you have to carry Rosa and I have to carry The Punisher? You’re going to thank me for drinking milk then!”

“Charles, nobody’s carrying The Punisher, okay? And it’s so hot, that milk’s going to curdle!” He looked back up at their target and squinted. Isabella Gnucci’s back was facing them, her boyfriend Antoni setting dinner down in front of her. 

“Why are they just sitting there when her last surviving son was brutally murdered by The Punisher? Shouldn’t she be mourning right now?” Charles took a sip of his milk and immediately spit it out. It had curdled.

“Charles, I know how these guys think, okay? I was undercover in the Italian mafia for six months, remember? Jakie Lady Hands?” He lifted both hands into the air daintily. “Ugh, nevermind. She’s probably trying to act like everything’s okay while she devises a plan to kill everyone Frank and Rosa love.” He paused and rose his eyebrows. Was he on that list? Was Amy? Was Amy safe at the station while he was out here? 

“Alright Jake, you think like the mafia, I’ll think like The Punisher. We have a lot in common, anyways.”

“Charles, you and The Punisher have exactly nothing in common!” Jake focused the lense of the scopes while he tried to find their target… why couldn’t he find her? Where did she go?

“That’s not true! He’s a family man who loves his country. He’s misunderstood, and punishes bad guys. If that doesn’t sound exactly like me, I don’t know what does!” He smiled wide, finally setting the carton of curdled milk down on the windowsill. 

“Charles, not now.”

“I mean, if I were him, I wouldn’t waste any time plotting revenge, I’d just come in and get the job done.” He put his hands on his hips and looked up. “Hey, where are they?”

Jake focused the binoculars and noticed two bullet holes in the glass of Isabella Gnucci’s apartment. That’s funny, he hadn’t heard any gunshots. He kept looking around before he saw Isabella frantically stand up, her hair a mess as she crouched down and ran for the door. Two more gunshots, quiet as ever. Damnit, Charles was right! Castle must be on the rooftop!

“Castle’s here, Charles. Let’s cut him off in the alley!” He let the binoculars fall around his neck and started for the back entrance.

“Whoa whoa whoa, Jake!” Charles put his hand on his friend’s chest. 

“What are you doing, Charles? He’s going to get away!” Jake pointed to the back door.

“What if we just missed him?” Charles winked dramatically. “What if we just followed him and let him take out the trash before we take him in?”

“But those aren’t our orders.” 

“Whoever gave those orders to Captain Holt may be compromised. You heard him yourself, he wasn’t sure the conversation in his office with Rosa was entirely private.” Charles looked up at the penthouse window and back at Jake. “He knows where Rosa is. If we let him get rid of the people that might hurt her again… then we can worry about interrogating him.”

“Charles, are you turning chaotic good?” Jake smiled. “Because your Buzzfeed quiz said you were neutral good!”

“Every dollar has its day!” He slapped Jake on the shoulder. 

“That’s not the saying, but I’ll take it!” He put his hand on top of Charles’, squeezing gently before looking at the back entrance. “Plus there’s no way Castle would let the two of us arrest him without breaking our arms or something.”

“Yeah, I thought about that too.”

“For Rosa,” Jake exclaimed.

“For Rosa!” Charles shot his fist in the air, hoping that his plan would work.

“Shots fired, shots fired,” Jake spoke into his walkie talkie as he recited the address of Ma Gnucci’s apartment. “Detectives Peralta and Boyle pursuing shooter on foot.” He waited exactly two minutes to report Frank’s warning shots. 

“On foot?” Charles mouthed, dropping his shoulders in disappointment.

“Yes, on foot. Amy and I’ve been hitting the gym.” He hooked his walkie talkie onto his jeans and pulled out his gun. “I just texted Amy, Holt and Terry.”

“Did you tell them my chaotic good plan?” Charles pulled his gun out too.

“No, I’m going to let that be our little secret.”

“I just love having secrets with you, Jake! I feel like it makes our friendship that much closer, you know?” He stared lovingly at his friend. 

“Charles, the chase.” Jake opened the door to the back and nodded outside.

“Oh, right.”


	8. Chapter 8

Frank slung his rifle across his back as he sprinted across the rooftop, his heavy boots displacing tiny pieces of gravel behind him as he ran. He ignored the sound of bullets whizzing by his head until he hurtled over the ladder at the edge of the building. His swollen fingers gripped the metal of the rungs before sliding down onto the uneven pavement with a loud crash. Jesus! He landed harder than he had planned. His knee was killing him from the fight before, but that didn’t matter right now. He had to keep going; for Diaz if not for anyone else. 

He ran through the blackened alleyway and pulled his handguns out of their holsters, determined to find Ma before she got on the road to her escape route. Frank didn’t ever plan on hurting a woman, and he’d certainly never killed one before, but he knew that Ma was different. He knew that she was a king pin in her own right… a queen pin, if you will. He knew that if he didn’t stop her, then no one would. Maybe there was a way he could get around actually killing her…

“Come on, Ma!” He shot the tires of her SUV, watching it sink unevenly into the ground. “You think I didn’t know that was you?!” He growled as loud as he could, standing in front of the apartment building as the outline of five giant men lined up in the lobby. Just five? Was she kidding?

Frank smirked as he shot the first two in the head, turning on his heel as the other three opened fire through the door and chased after him. He felt his heart start to race as he dodged each bullet, keeping light on his feet like his friend in Red. He weaved in and out of alleyways, sprinting across storefronts and sidewalks as Ma’s henchmen attempted to get a piece of him with their firearms. 

He hid behind the cover of a building, thinking about that tour in Afghanistan. The one before he did what he couldn’t forget, the one where Billy’s face was still unmarred by his betrayal. His life was in his hands, and vice versa. What Frank wouldn’t give to have a partner like that right now; to watch over him, to have his back, to stop him when he’d gone too far. The idea of a ‘battle buddy’ was nothing more than a fairy tale at this point, and Frank shook his head of the idea.

Tired footsteps drew him out of his fantasy, a slight shuffle in their gait accompanied heavy, labored breathing. Frank controlled his own inspirations as he quieted his lungs, appearing just quickly enough to silence the expelled air with his bullet. There’s only two left now, he thought. Two left, and then Ma. 

He sprinted off down the street, the gunfire more subdued as the pain in his knee caused him to wince with each stride. He took a sharp right the end of the last block, pausing in front of a set of brick archways with wrought iron gates. Good, he thought, his memory was still serving him well. His gunshot echoed throughout the park as he blasted the lock off, barrelling through one of the arches. He hoped to God that they saw where he went. 

“You think you can kill all three of my sons and get away with it, Castle?” The witch’s voice was even more shrill than he’d imagined. “Your family may be dead, but I’m gonna look for that spic bitch of yours until she’s in pieces on my kitchen counter.”

The fuck did she just say? Frank felt his heart drop at the word she used to describe Diaz, his grip on his rifle tightening as she got closer. She’s definitely dying tonight for that comment. He took in a deep breath as he wished away his emotions from the situation. Anger and passion weren’t going to help him now, and he wasn’t about to let this arrogant mob boss throw him off his game. He adjusted his sights as she signaled her men to separate. 

“One batch, two batch,” Frank whispered, pushing his eye against his scope. He closed his other eye as he blew a golf ball sized hole in the first man’s head. 

“Penny and dime,” he finished, Ma’s shouts ringing louder as he took the last bodyguard down. 

“Frank! Come out here, you coward!” Ma’s voice was frantic, her face a Jackson Pollock painting of red and pink. 

She spun around in circles, her eyes wide with fear as she searched the open area for her predator. “Frank!?” She splayed her fingers out as her spinning slowed to a halt, her body now rocking itself into a false sense of comfort. “Frank, I swear to God, when I find you, you’re going to wish you were dead!”

“I already do.” Frank took in a slow deep breath, keeping his cheek to the stock of the barrel as he adjusted himself atop the boulder of the grizzly bear exhibit. Instead of aiming at his target, he pointed his rifle at the lock of the polar bear exhibit across the way. He zoned in, clearing his mind of anything good or bad, and exhaled as he pulled the trigger.

“What was that?!” She pressed her palms to her chest, frisking her torso for a potential wound she may not have felt. “Frank, what was that?” She looked over at the exhibit, apprehensive to move even an inch. If she took a step forward she may get shot, if she remained still she’d be at the mercy of whatever was making its way out of that cage. Dare she look? Should she risk moving her head to the side to see...

Frank had seen a lot of horrific things in his life but none of them had prepared him for this. He watched through his scope as the white bear attacked her, immediately removing her arms in fountains of scarlet red that dwarfed the damage he had done to her men. The bear’s size and brute strength were something to be admired, but a part of him was glad he didn’t have to be the one tearing her limb from limb. The sound of sinew ripping apart was burned into his memory for what he assumed to be the rest of his life. Screams and growls, splashing and pooling, breaking and cracking ripped through the air as the white beast did its worst. Frank kept his eyes open, making sure he watched her get what she deserved until… sirens.

Oh shit, of course. Frank rose to his knees and threw his rifle onto his back before climbing down the exhibit. He stayed on the edges of each cage and open area, tip-toeing by until the wild animal was out of sight. He pulled his handgun out of his holster and started running in the direction of Curt’s apartment. 

“Frank Castle?” Two men appeared in front of him. “Don’t shoot!” The first man pleaded, raising his hands in the air. “We’re friends of Rosa’s. We just want to know where she is.”


	9. Chapter 9

Frank stared at them both blankly, taking in their features before giving them an expression of recognition. “Oh yeah, the two little guys. She told me about you.” Frank lowered his weapon.

“Two little guys?” Jake whined. “Man! That’s really how she described us?” He glanced over at Charles who stood in awe of the man before them.

“Seems about right.” Frank smirked, glancing behind him before putting his gun back in its holster. “Skinny Jewish kid and a middle-aged weirdo.” He rose his eyebrows and looked over at Charles. “Rosa’s safe, she’s with someone I trust.”

“Oh, thank God.” Jake exhaled.

“She may have told you about us, but she didn’t tell us how handsome you are in person! I mean, your mug shots don’t even do you justice! Those cheekbones could cut glass!” Charles put a hand over his mouth as he took him in.

“Charles, we’re here to make sure our friend is safe, not to ogle over his perfect jawline and deliciously plump lips, okay?” He smiled at Frank, nodding toward Charles disapprovingly. “Can you believe this guy? Ha ha. Actually, what are you doing later? Are you single? Asking for a friend. No? Okay, just kidding. Anyways…” Jake sucked in a deep breath and saw the polar bear out of the corner of his eye.

“Is that a polar bear?” He leaned to the side and watched as it devoured Ma Gnucci. “Is that Isabella Gnucci?”

“She said you’d be like this.” Frank started walking away from the exhibit. 

“Like what?” Charles asked with a smile, following Frank around like a schoolgirl.

“Weird.” He pulled both of his guns out and cocked them. “I can take one of you to her, but only one.” 

“Obviously I’ll go.” Jake volunteered. “I’ve known Rosa longer.”

“Yeah, but she came out to me first. That makes our friendship more meaningful!” Charles pointed out.

“Only because you were eavesdropping on her conversation!”

“She didn’t have to come out to me, Jake, she made a choice! She could have been the same old Rosa and hidden her truth from me like she always does, but she didn’t do that!” Charles stopped walking. “She didn’t lie to me, and do you know why?” His eyes grew in expectation. 

“Friends don’t lie: Stranger Things. Damnit, Charles!” He grumbled, regretting ever making him watch that show. “Yeah, but who did she ask to be by her side when she came out to her parents? This guy!” He pointed to himself with two thumbs up. “I’ll go with Frank.”

“I changed my mind. Neither of you are coming with me.” He grunted as they started up an incline, his knee screaming for attention. “You know you guys fight like an old married couple?”

“Thank you! I’ve always said that!” Charles puffed up his chest with pride. 

“You’ve never said that!” Jake whispered.

“I’ll have my friend drop her off at the precinct tomorrow at thirteen hundred hours. She still needs to rest.” Frank stayed in front of them, noticing their bickering had ended.

“But she’s okay, right?” Jake asked, hiding behind his massive body. 

“She’s okay.” He stopped walking and turned to face them. “I thought I told you I wasn’t bringing you guys with me.”

“Right right right. Cool cool cool cool cool, yeah the problem with the precinct is that we think there may be someone on the Gnucci payroll.” Jake offered, his face getting serious for the first time.

“There might be a cop in the Gnucci’s pocket… a dirty cop, you know, getting something under the table, looking the other way…” Charles got closer to Frank, making a motion with his hand to imitate sliding something under a table. 

“I get it,” he shot Charles a scolding look, “But Ma’s gone, now, and so are her men.” He pointed to the massacre behind them. 

“Her inside man might not know that yet. Or woman. Women can be dirty cops too!” Jake smiled and snapped his fingers. 

Frank furrowed his brow at Jake’s behavior and let out a heavy sigh. “You guys got a better idea?”

Blue and red lights flashed in circles, flooding the three men’s field of vision as the sirens got louder in their ears. Frank’s first instinct was to run and shoot, but Jake put his hand on his shoulder. “I got this.”

Jake took the badge off his neck and held it high in the air. “It’s okay! I’m Detective Jake Peralta and this is my partner, Charles Boyle. We’re going to place this man under arrest for shooting these nice Italian men.” 

He walked forward as the image of an NYPD officer slowly came into view. Their frame was slim and tall, unwavering as they kept their weapon drawn even though Jake’s wasn’t. “Don’t shoot!” God, how many times was he going to have to say that tonight? “We have the situation under control, I’ve already called my Captain.”

Jake’s words were cut short as a bullet forced the air from his lungs. The blurry cop fired his weapon into his chest not once but twice, stopping him in his tracks. “Owie.” Jake whispered before falling to his knees.

“Jake!” Charles screamed, attempting to run to his best friend. He felt himself being jerked back by Frank’s fingers as they grabbed his collar and held him in place. He yelped like a tiny puppy as Frank pulled him in front, the cool metal of his gun pressing against his temple. 

Oh no, he was wrong about Frank this whole time! And now Jake’s going to have to pay for it! He knew his life was in danger from both angles, but all he could think about was his friend lying there on the pavement. He was bleeding, but only from one of the shots. Thank God he convinced him to wear his vest today. He didn’t have time to jump in front of him like he did for Rosa a few years back. How can he call Jake his best friend if he couldn’t even take a bullet for him? He’s never going to forgive himself for this, not ever!

Charles winced as he felt the pressure of the gun shift, completely leaving his head. He took in a deep breath as he accepted his fate, only to witness Frank shoot both officers in the head. 

“Oh my God!” Charles closed his eyes as he heard their bodies slump to the ground one right after the other. Was he next? Was he foolish to trust Frank? Should he have listened to Jake? Should he have listened to Holt? Should he go back to being neutral good? He heard two more gunshots before opening his eyes, watching Frank shoot the police car’s dash cam. 

“Gotta cover your ass, Boyle.” Frank winked at him and stole his gun out of his holster, shoving it in his pants.

Charles let out a sigh of relief. “Right.” He knew he was right to trust him. “Because I thought that for a second you were going to…”

Frank punched Charles in the face, drawing a black curtain over his eyes.


	10. Chapter 10

Frank burst through Curtis’ front door, forcing Rosa to look up from the couch. His clumsy entrance shook her from the warmth of a fuzzy haze she would almost call sleep if it weren’t for the last dose of morphine Curtis had given her. She rubbed her eyes and looked at Frank. There weren’t any fresh cuts or bruises on him this time, but his pain was suddenly showing on his face. 

“You’re hurting,” she whispered, twisting around to see him better.

“Nah.” He waved her off, shutting the door and limping into the kitchen. 

He winced behind the cabinets as he searched them for some sort of painkiller… Tylenol, Motrin, Aleve, anything! He just needed something to stop the throbbing for a minute, to ease the waves fire shooting up his leg. He didn’t want Diaz to think that he was aching from something as menial as a busted knee. What kind of a protector would he be then?

“Where do you hurt?” She appeared out of nowhere, jolting him out of his skin as he shut the cabinet door. 

“What?” He found a bottle of Tylenol and tried to focus on it long enough to read the directions. “Huh?” God, he was tired. He couldn’t even remember the last time that he really slept.

“Does it hurt here?” She poked him in the side with a wooden spoon from Curt’s drawer. 

“No.” He set the bottle of medicine on the counter.

“How about here.” She bopped him on the head. 

“Stop it.” He took the spoon away from her and threw it into the sink. “Cut it out, Diaz.”

“How about here?” She leaned forward and grabbed his knee, squeezing as hard as she could. 

Frank moaned in anguish as his eyes rolled back into his head. The pressure from her fingers sent shockwaves of pain up his thigh and spine, transforming that moan into a growl as he swatted her hand away. “Okay, it hurts!”

“You don’t have to put the act on for me, Frank.” She stared gently into his eyes as they blatantly avoided contact with hers. “You’ve obviously sprained your knee. You should rest.”

“I’m fine.” He grabbed a glass of water and tossed back four Tylenol.

“Yeah, you look fine.” She smirked and opened the freezer. That’ll be the last time she tries to initiate eye contact with anyone ever again.

“Your arm’s in a sling, Diaz. If anyone should rest, it should be you.” He pointed to the flannel pillowcase Curtis made into a sling for her. “Where is Curt anyways?” He looked around the apartment and set the glass down.

“Said he had to go to work, make things seem less suspicious.” If Frank didn’t want her help, then maybe she didn’t need to be here anymore. Maybe she should just leave and forget all of this ever happened. Maybe she imagined that he trusted her, that they even had a connection in the first place. Maybe it was just the morphine.

Frank nodded in the other direction, remembering the last time he was there with Curt. “Yeah, that sounds about right.” He turned and looked at Rosa. “You didn’t even ask me if I got the rest of the Gnuccis.”

“You’re here, aren’t you?” She pulled an ice pack out of the freezer. 

“Yeah, I guess.” He licked his lips and glanced over at her, noticing how exhausted she looked.  
Darkened circles sunk below bloodshot eyes, a testament to her fighting sleep until the very last minute. She told him not to put on a show for her, but she was just as guilty. If she was anything like him, which he knew she was, she hadn’t gotten any sleep since he had left. Was she worried about him? About her friends? Was she worried that the Gnuccis would come for her while he was out there looking for them? It was hard to tell. 

“They’re gone now.” He tried to assuage her, taking a stifled step forward.

“Cool.” She tossed the ice pack onto the counter. “Put this on your knee for fifteen minutes and take a break for half an hour.”

She looked up and noticed that he was a lot closer than before. “Wait, no, that’s not right…” she fingered the ice pack nervously. This morphine was really beginning to mess with her thought process. Why couldn’t he just go away again? “Whatever, you can google it later, I’ll get a taxi home.”

“Quit being shitty.” he whispered, the space between their faces getting smaller.

”I’m not being shitty,” she whispered back.

“Yes, you are.” He picked up the ice pack, brushing her hand with his fingertips. “You’re high as a kite, you’re tired, and you’re stubborn as shit.” He took his time to stare at her dilated pupils. “If you don’t sleep you won’t even remember how to get to your apartment.”

“If you don’t sleep you’ll...” her mouth slacked open, for once in her life devoid of a witty comeback. 

“Yeah?” He chuckled, raising his eyebrows. 

“Shut up.” She leaned forward as Frank’s face began to blur, the sweat on his forehead seeping into her pores as she rested against it. She lifted her only free hand and felt his face to make sure it was really there, brushing his bloody cheek with her thumb. The stubble of his beard scratched her skin as it attempted to come back in, like sandpaper against her palm. 

“Promise me you’ll sleep, too?” She managed to say, her lashes feathering against his. 

“I promise.” He let their eyes dance together in a drunken tango before Rosa’s finally fell shut. He smiled softly and let his lids follow suit, closing them to a calming darkness that only left room for the sound of her breath. Her act was over, and so was his; both of them too cocky to admit to one another that they could barely stand as they struggled to hold each other up. 

“Alright, Diaz, time for bed.” He decided to wait until she woke to tell her about Jake and Charles.


	11. Chapter 11

Jake blinked slowly, alarms beeping faintly as hushed voices of nurses rang in his ears. Faded memories of sights and sounds he couldn’t quite place rushed in and out of his mind as he tried to make sense of all the noise. How could it be so quiet yet so loud at the same time? He blinked a few more times before he could focus on the blurry yet familiar faces across the hospital room. The hospital room… that’s right, he was in the hospital! 

Amy’s arms were crossed over her chest, her feet taking turns tapping an insanely annoying tune as he came to. Charles was whispering something to her, both hands on her shoulders as he undoubtedly attempted to comfort his best friend’s wife.

“Boyle?” Jake broke apart their union as he sat up in bed, the pain from his wound suddenly hitting him like a ton of bricks.

“Jake!” Charles squealed, running over to his side. “You got shot! I wasn’t sure if you were gonna make it!”

Amy slowly walked behind Charles. “The doctors assured me that you would.” She took his hand and smiled, the warmth of her palm masking any pain he might have felt earlier. “Welcome back, babe.”

“Thanks, Ames.” He closed his eyes as she kissed his forehead. “What happened? Did Frank Castle shoot me? God, that would’ve been so cool!” He smiled at his wife and best friend. “Only, that wouldn’t make any sense because he seemed like a pretty decent guy. Even though he was super scary and made me pee my pants a little when he looked at me…”

Amy wrinkled her nose. 

“You make that face now, but if you met him in person, you’d understand.” He squeezed Amy’s hand and looked down at the white gauze on his chest. “What’s this?” 

“You got shot, Jake! I got your text and found you bleeding on the ground in the middle of Central Park!” Amy’s eyes began to glaze over.

“Text? I didn’t send you a text!” Jake sat straight up.

“Maybe Charles sent it?” She looked over at Boyle, raising her eyebrows at him in an odd sense of hope. 

“I didn’t take your phone, Jake. I was too busy being manhandled by The Punisher to have time for that.” He smiled wide. 

“Manhandled? Please don’t ever say that again.” Jake frowned then looked back at Amy. 

“Manhandled! The Punisher is really aggressive, I wonder if he’s like that in bed with Rosa…” Charles winked and walked over to Jake’s bed.

“Eww, gross.” Amy put her head down, shielding her eyes from the imaginary visage of Frank and Rosa with her folded palm.

“Like I said before, Ames, you say that now, but when you meet him in person, it’s like a religious experience. Or the opposite of a religious experience. Would that be an anti-religious experience? Or a demonic experience? Or was it kind of more like meeting the angel of death, but he was like ‘nah, it’s cool man, I’m not here for you’…”

“Jake! All that matters is that you’re alive. The doctor said you can go home in a few days after you finish physical therapy.” She smiled again and rubbed his hand. 

“Yes, you’re alive, and so is Isabella Gnucci.” Captain Holt’s voice boomed in Jake’s fragile chest as he stepped into the room. 

“What?” Jake couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Did he actually get shot in the line of duty? And possibly by The Punisher? And now he’s hearing that the woman who caused all of his pain for him and his friends was going to pull through? That couldn’t be right. He had to be joking, but with Captain Holt it was impossible to tell.

“It’s true. The paramedics arrived at the scene in record time. One might say suspiciously record time.” Captain Holt paused, looking at Jake. “Sergeant Jeffords and I reviewed the dash cam footage of officer Cannavale’s vehicle. You were shot by a fellow officer, not Frank Castle.”

“What? Charles and I were right? Dirty cops?” He smiled at his personal victory, high-fiving Charles before looking back at his Captain.

“This is not something I would be ‘high-fiving’ about if I were you.” He rose his eyebrows as he spoke, glancing at both of them before resuming his original thought. “It is hard to tell if the policemen in question are the only government employees in the Gnucci’s pockets. The eager paramedics seem highly suspicious, so it is in your best interest not to speak to anyone about this case except for internal affairs.”

“What if they bought someone off in Internal Affairs?” Amy sat up straight, arching her back as she looked at her captain. 

“I’ve considered that as well. We’ll just have to be hyper vigilant until…” Captain Holt looked at his shoes, not knowing a safe or professional answer to give the members of his squad. They were scattered, scared, and quite frankly, so was he. 

“It looked as if you were trying to protect Mr. Castle before officer Cannavale opened fire.” Captain Holt set his hat on the counter. “He then acted in your defense, stealing Boyle’s weapon before rendering him unconscious.”

“Protecting The Punisher? I did that?” He looked at Amy, his eyes wild with excitement. “Can you please call me The Punisher Protector from now on? That’s like the best nickname ever!”

“No.”

“Come on! I got shot in the chest!” He tilted his head and pouted his lips, hoping Amy would give in. 

“The Punisher punched me in the face!” Charles interjected. “Yeah! Right after he killed those cops that shot you, Jake; you should have seen it!” Charles stood in front of him, making a gun with his fingers and pretending to shoot two imaginary targets. “He was like…Not in my city!” He growled the last part in a voice Jake didn’t even know he had. 

Captain Holt approached Jake’s bed, looking him over to make sure he was okay. “Castle and Diaz are still in the wind. It’s been three days since her initial disappearance at Castle’s apartment. We can only hope he brings her home safe, and that he does it soon.” 

“What makes you think he’s stopping her? I mean, dirty cops send you photos like those, I wouldn’t come back and trust the system to put me into witness protection.” Jake looked at Amy for reassurance, holding her hand tightly as the reality of the situation got heavier. 

“Nor would I.”


	12. Chapter 12

The interrogation room was colder than she had anticipated, chilling through her leather jacket and heavy jeans. The walls were blank, devoid of any cheesy corporate decoration or motivational posters, encasing her in a bland and sterile cage. She looked around anxiously as the camera stared at her from across the room, ominously perched atop its tripod. It partly reminded her of those weird aliens that attacked Tom Cruise in War of the Worlds. That movie was kinda lame, but it was still kinda scary. 

She crossed her arms over her chest and let out a heavy sigh, wishing there were a clock, a window, anything to let her know what time of day it was, but she knew that was only part of the game. She knew that she had to wait in this frigid room and get as uncomfortable as possible before they came in to question her. She knew that they would try to get information on Frank any way they could. Terry had prepared her for their tactics, and went over every possible scenario they could come up with. Maybe she’d prefer the aliens invade earth and try to capture her instead.

“Miss Diaz?” The woman’s voice echoed off the blank walls as her cheap perfume wafted into the room.

“Detective Diaz,” Rosa corrected her, sitting up straight.

“We’ll see about that.” The woman smirked, tilting her head in a way that made Rosa want to rip it off her body. “I’m Agent Esparza, this is Agent Barnes,” she nodded briefly at her timid partner. “Shall we get started?” She pressed a button on the camera, illuminating the red bulb to the side.

“I guess.” Rosa leaned forward, her elbows resting on the table. 

“Good.” She set her files on the table in front of her before taking her seat. “Tell me about the Gnucci operation.”

Terry had told her to keep her emotions out of this interview as much as possible, so she decided to keep her answers short and sweet. “I was assigned to Carlo Gnucci in February of this year in order to get information on the drug and sex rings in Little Italy.” 

Rosa kept a straight face as Agent Esparza’s eyes crept their way up the files and onto her like a slow and patient serpent. “And how long were you undercover?” Those amber eyes held her fast, dripping with judgement. 

“Six months.”

“Did you get the information you needed before terminating the operation?” She pulled out a notebook and started scribbling words down with a pencil that came out of nowhere. 

“I heard whispers… got a few documents sent to my Captain while I was…” Rosa blinked slowly as she tried not to think about all the times she had to open her legs for that slimy dirt bag. 

“While you were sleeping with the enemy?”

“I did what I had to.” She closed her eyes and sighed. The last few weeks with Frank hadn’t left any room for her brain to think about her time undercover. She knew she would have to do things she didn’t like but for some reason, sleeping with a sixty-five year old man hadn’t really crossed her mind as one of them. “Last time I checked, sex is the least of the IAB’s worries when it comes to conduct undercover.”

“What about aiding and abetting a wanted mass murder?” She put her pencil down and opened the first of many files on the table. She smiled and stoically pulled out still photos of the video Captain Holt has shown her weeks ago. She slid them in front of her. “That’s you and Frank Castle leaving the club on the night of August 1st.”

Rosa looked down at the photos and said nothing; another piece of advice from Terry. 

“Your captain told us that he put you on desk duty after seeing this surveillance video.” She continued, spreading out four different shots of them together.

“It sounds like you have all the information you need, then.” Rosa pushed her chair back and started to stand up. 

“Not so fast, Miss Diaz.” She reached out her hand as if to physically stop her from leaving. “What about these photos?” She pulled out the ones with the red skull painted on her face.

“Why don’t you tell me?” Rosa had to take in a deep breath in order to calm down from the red she was seeing right now. She sat back down and crossed her arms over her chest. “All I did was lift some drunk asshole out of the club and drive him home. I got punished for it, and that should have been enough, but a week later, I get these threatening photos?! What would you do, Agent Esparza? Huh?” She pushed the photos back in her direction.

“So you admit to picking up Frank Castle and helping him to safety after he massacred 35 people?” She twisted her words. “How long have you and Castle been working together? Months? Years? Is that why you chose to go undercover with the Gnucci family? So you could get him information he needed to finish the job he started last year?”

“Ha.” Rosa chuckled, shaking her head. This bitch must be out of her goddamn mind. “That was the first time I’d met him, and he told me his name was Pete.”

“And I’m supposed to believe that? Especially after you ran to his apartment the night you disappeared for a month without contacting your superior officer?”

“You sounds like my mom. And I had to go somewhere.” She shrugged her shoulders, amazed at these ridiculous accusations. “Those photos were on my desk before my shift started, I didn’t think it was safe to come back to the NYPD, so yeah, I went to stay with Pete.”

“Because you were becoming a vigilante yourself?”

“Because I thought that the Gnuccis had paid someone to keep an eye on me!” This woman was exhausting. Why was she so hell-bent on burning her at the stake? “Captain Holt didn’t know who gave him that video, either. Whoever it was that…”

“Officers Cannavale and Morgan’s files are being investigated as we speak, considering they shot Detective Peralta in pursuit of Castle.” She stared at Rosa as she waited for a reaction that never came. “Do you know anything about that incident?” She pushed the photos even closer to Rosa. 

“I wasn’t there.” She told the truth, glancing at the other agent before looking back at Esparza.

“That’s not what I asked.”

“No.” Rosa leaned across the table, glaring at her with fire in her eyes. “I don’t know anything about that incident.” Each word dripped with venom as it left her lips, forcing Agent Esparza’s eyes to widen as she continued. 

“What I do know is that you’re wasting my time in this room while I could be doing real police work from my desk. I could be trying to put the last of the Gnuccis away for her crimes, but instead I’m playing twenty questions with an amateur investigator about a stupid shoulder injury!”

Esparza leaned back, shocked at Rosa’s ferocity. She paused briefly as her phone vibrated in her jacket pocket, forcing her to put a finger up in front of her. 

“Unbelievable.” Rosa whispered under her breath, leaning back in her chair. This lady’s taking a phone call right now?

“Understood. Yes. Are you sure? What time?” Agent Esparza held the phone to her ear and stared at Rosa as if she had seen a ghost. “Okay, yes, sir. Right away, sir.” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before setting her phone face-down on the table.

“We’re done here, Detective Diaz.” She tugged on the bottom of her suit jacket and puffed up her chest. “Thank you for your time.”

“We’re done, that’s it?” Rosa leaned forward again, trying to get a read on her. She wanted this to be over with as much as anyone else in the room, but didn’t actually think she would get her wish. Who had called her just now? What did they say to her? What was going on?

Agent Esparza gathered her files and tucked them under her arm, shutting off the camera. “Have a good day, Detective Diaz.” She couldn’t leave the room fast enough.  
—————-

Hours later, Rosa walked into the bullpen for the first time in a month. The smell of ink pens and burnt coffee welcomed her home as she made her way to her desk. She wanted to hear one of Jake’s bad jokes, to cringe at something Boyle said, to make fun of Amy again, but no one was there. She looked at her watch to confirm the time: three o’clock. Maybe everyone had just taken different cases at the same time? 

She noticed a thin coat of dust on top of the old laminate that had pretended to be wood for far too long. A bouquet of flowers, a collection of white gladiolus to be exact: the flower of integrity and strength sat on the edge of her desk. Next to the vase was another Manila envelope with her first name written on it in black sharpie. She wasted no time in opening it. 

Instead of compromising surveillance photos of Frank or herself, she found a single piece of paper inside. On this piece of paper was the rough draft of an article, a headline of a local newspaper with a photograph of Isabella Gnucci in the top right corner: ITALIAN MOB BOSS DIES OF HEART ATTACK BEFORE LEAVING HOSPITAL. Rosa smiled and flipped the piece of paper over, noticing a name on the back, Karen Page, written in soft and loopy cursive. 

She felt her phone vibrate before she had time to wonder if this was the Karen Frank had talked about earlier, the one who looked at him like a monster when all was said and done. She shrugged and stared at the article, grabbing her phone quickly enough to read the message before it disappeared. 

“It’s over now. You’re safe.” The number was unknown, but she knew it was Frank. 

He had finally gotten Ma Gnucci, and quite possibly everyone else on her payroll. Rosa imagined he was hiding on some rooftop close by, watching her open the envelope through a scope on a rifle he had set up in a matter of seconds. She looked in the direction she thought he might be and smiled, showing her teeth to her silent savior. She put her phone back in her pocket and slid the article back into the envelope. 

“Detective Diaz, it’s good to have you back!” Captain Holt walked out of his office and smiled for the first time in a month.


End file.
